


With Cat-Like Tread (Upon Our Prey We Steal)

by james



Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Shenanigans, Werecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Jaskier has settled in to Kaer Morhen.  Geralt is happy he's made friends with everyone.No, really.  He is.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cats and Witchers, Oh My [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771585
Comments: 28
Kudos: 551





	With Cat-Like Tread (Upon Our Prey We Steal)

Geralt woke, still flat on his stomach, arms under the pillow no one had stolen from him during the night. He could tell that, beside him, Eskel was still asleep. Jaskier was gone – he'd fallen asleep with them the night before, stretched out in human form on one side of Geralt, with Eskel on the other. Eskel hadn't quite grown comfortable enough to physically sleep next to Jaskier (or underneath him, like Jaskier usually sprawled on top of Geralt in both forms.) Jaskier had offered, but Eskel had just blushed a bit and declined. 

As usual, Jaskier slipped out sometime in the night. Geralt hadn't woken enough to even notice if he'd switched forms or not; apparently his brain associated being home, with Jaskier and Eskel in bed with him, as safe and familiar enough that there was no need to be aware of his surroundings.

Today was due to start with a slow, lazy morning. Everyone in the keep was planning on sleeping in, as yesterday Vesemir had announced he was taking one last trip down the mountain for supplies before the first snow hit. He would be gone at least two days, if not three. When he got back it would be training and studying, freshening up on monster lore and discussing anything new or interesting any of them had come across.

There would also be all the chores for maintaining the keep, as well as hunting and cleaning and repairing and every single one of them would be sleeping in this morning, and doing absolutely nothing of use all day and tomorrow as well until Vesemir returned.

“Don't burn the fucking place down,” was all Vesemir had said as he'd left, though to be fair none of them had accidentally started any large fires in years. Small ones didn't count if you were just practising Igni.

Eskel was still sleeping soundly, so Geralt took a long, slow breath to let himself fall back asleep. He heard the footstep on the stairs just outside the door, and groaned to himself right before his door slammed open.

“Geralt, keep your _fucking cat_ out of my bed!” Lambert yelled.

Geralt opened his eyes and raised his head to see over Eskel, who was now awake but hadn't moved. Lambert was standing there, wearing only the long shirt he slept in, dangling Jaskier in cat form, scruffed at the neck.

Jaskier gave him an extremely pitiful look, and meowed at him.

Geralt said nothing for a moment, and Lambert gave Jaskier a rather easy shake. “Climbing on my fucking head all night, yowling out the window, scratching up my arms and everything he could reach!” Lambert yelled. Jaskier flipped his tail as if he had no idea what cat Lambert could possibly be talking about.

“If he was annoying you, why did you wait until now to bring him back?” Geralt asked.

There was a pause, then Lambert pulled Jaskier towards him, bringing up his other arm and cradling Jaskier on his back. “Fuck.” He glanced down at Jaskier, who sprawled, stomach up, and _merred._ “We didn't think this through,” Lambert said to him.

There was a snort from Eskel, and Jaskier twisted himself and leapt down, speeding across the bedroom like someone who was far too wide awake to be allowed in the room, and leapt onto the bed. He climbed over Eskel and onto Geralt's back, where he turned a circle, then started to knead.

Geralt hissed. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and while he had Witcher healing, that didn't mean he _wanted_ to heal a hundred tiny pricks in his skin. “ _Jaskier,_ ” he said, gritting his teeth.

There was a mew, then Jaskier curled up on his back and began purring loud enough to wake the dead.

Geralt pressed his face into the pillow.

~ ~ ~

As the days passed, it became a more-common-than-not sight to see Mordain with Jaskier draped on his shoulder – at meals, when cleaning the stables, even while training. Eskel had complained about him doing it when sparring, pointing out that none of them wanted to risk hurting Jaskier. Jaskier had jumped down and run over to leap onto Eskel's shoulder.

“This is fine,” Eskel had agreed, and Mordain just scowled.

Mordain had offered to scale the outer wall of the keep, with Jaskier on his shoulder, and Geralt had grabbed Jaskier and scowled at Mordain, reminding them both Jaskier did _not_ have mutagen-enhanced healing and that wouldn't help them if Geralt had to break both their heads.

~ ~ ~

Auckes tended to hang out with Jaskier when he was in human form. Auckes had had a bit of interest in poetry, and they'd bonded first over a shared love of one poet and shared disdain for another. Then Auckes had admitted he was very fond of one Julian Pancratz' epic poetry and, once Jaskier had calmed down enough to explain, they'd bonded over the imagery Jaskier had used to describe the way Geralt had gotten himself dragged into fighting a doppler in the middle of a whorehouse, where no one had really stopped to pay them any attention.

Geralt spent more time drinking with Lambert and sparring with Mordain and Eskel.

~ ~ ~

Vesemir let Jaskier take naps in his lap while he read. Geralt was usually in the library as well, keeping an eye on Jaskier and listening to him purr as Vesemir pet him. Geralt had tried to remind the old man that Jaskier was a werecat, who had a human form and didn't actually need all the attention and spoiling he was being given.

Vesemir just ignored him, or started quizzing him on things he'd memorised fifty years ago. 

~ ~ ~

When Geralt got back to his room at the top of the tower, he was very much looking forward to an afternoon away from everyone. Jaskier was already there, humming to himself as he finished his bath, splashing a bit as he drummed on the water to keep the beat. Geralt stood inside the door, letting the sound of it all relax him, and he considered just slipping into the bath and joining Jaskier.

As soon as he thought it, Jaskier hurled himself upright and climbed out of the tub, dripping water all over. Geralt frowned as Jaskier hurried to grab a towel.

“Are...you going somewhere?” 

Obviously he was; normally Jaskier could hardly be dragged out of a warm bath – the one thing about him that wasn't cat-like. But now he was toweling himself dry like he had an audience waiting for him downstairs. 

“Have plans?” Geralt asked, wondering if he could – or wanted to – invite himself along. Jaskier was no doubt going to sing yet another song about Geralt's deeds, which often led to his brothers asking what _really_ happened.

Jaskier paused, towel against his chest, and he cocked his head at Geralt.

Geralt clamped his jaw shut. It wasn't that he disliked Jaskier spending time with the others; he was grateful they got along. 

“What's wrong?” Jaskier asked, sounding confused.

“Nothing. I'll see you at supper?” Geralt thought about re-heating the water for a bath of his own, but somehow he no longer felt like lounging in the tub. Winter had set in, and though each of the commonly-used rooms had a fireplace, the fires never completely got rid of every draft of cold air that snuck in. Hot baths were perfect for getting rid of the last of the chills, but Geralt felt more like going down and chopping some more firewood.

Jaskier was looking at him now, like he could see the inside of Geralt's skull. After a moment, he said, “You've a large family,” like he was testing whether he'd read Geralt's mind properly.

Geralt just grunted at him. He didn't care – he'd rather they got along than not, it was better than the alternative.

But Jaskier padded over, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He pressed his hands against Geralt's chest, and leaned in, almost for a kiss but then he stopped. “I suppose we haven't spent much time alone, together,” he said, and the apology in his tone was clear.

“Hmm.” Geralt felt stupid agreeing with him. They travelled most of the year together, but he was used to spending four months across the winter without him, and even during the warmer months they weren't traveling together the entire time.

Although the last few years their time spent apart was dwindling to _almost_ nothing. This was the first time they'd spent the entire winter together and Geralt hadn't really thought much how it was going to go, other than planning out the prank they'd decided on, with not telling the others about what Jaskier was.

Jaskier placed a soft kiss on Geralt's mouth, and most of his anger slipped away. Maybe not anger, not really, but Jaskier was looking at him, love and affection so clearly written all over his face, shining in his eyes, practically written in every line of his body. He pressed his chest into Geralt's, turning his head to rub his cheek against Geralt's chin.

“I'm sorry, love,” he said, and Geralt suddenly felt a pang of guilt, that Jaskier was the one apologising. 

Not...that he really knew which of them had got them to this point, but still. He wasn't in the habit of asking for Jaskier to spend time with him, he'd always just...looked over and there he was. “I don't--”

“Shh,” Jaskier said, rubbing his cheek against the other side of Geralt's face. He knew what Jaskier was doing, had known since the first time Jaskier had held him down and scent-marked him. He hadn't objected then, certainly didn't want to object now – only when he reclaimed Geralt as his own in front of Geralt's brothers, when it was a tad embarrassing.

He felt Jaskier's hand sliding down his arm until he intertwined their fingers. He gave a gentle tug. “Do you want,” Jaskier glanced towards the bed, then paused, and looked at Geralt questioningly. “Or reheat the bathwater, and we can waste the rest of the day away there?”

Geralt opened his mouth, realised he didn't really know what he wanted. Just...Jaskier. It didn't matter what they did. “Not the entire day,” he pointed out. Lambert and Mordain had brought in a small wild pig that morning, and it had been smoking all day. Supper promised to be a feast, and if they didn't show up tonight, all the best cuts would be devoured and no one would feel the slightest bit sorry for them.

Jaskier grinned, like he knew exactly what Geralt meant.

Not for the first time, Geralt wondered if werecats _could_ read minds. It wasn't the first time Jaskier had read him so easily, but the one time he'd tried to ask, Jaskier had just laughed and said that he was an open book, easy for anyone to read who bothered to try.

Geralt wasn't sure that was true, but it was a bit easier on his nerves than thinking Jaskier really could read minds.

Although if he _could,_ he should be helping Geralt when they played Gwent in the evenings. Jaskier didn't play, having lost horribly the first time because he kept getting distracted, and ever since, he'd preferred to prowl around in cat-form, laying on people's laps, shoulders, and perching on Mordain's head.

He fucking well _ought_ to be sharing their cards with Geralt, if he had the ability.

For now, though, Geralt just squeezed his hand gently, and nodded towards the bed.


End file.
